Thoroughly appreciating his servant's good qualities, Captain Servadac
endured with imperturbable good humor those idiosyncrasies,
which in a less faithful follower would have been intolerable,
and from time to time he would drop a word of sympathy that served
to deepen his subordinate's devotion.

On one occasion, when Ben Zoof had mounted his hobby-horse,
and was indulging in high-flown praises about his beloved
eighteenth arrondissement, the captain had remarked gravely,
"Do you know, Ben Zoof, that Montmartre only requires a matter
of some thirteen thousand feet to make it as high as Mont Blanc?"

Ben Zoof's eyes glistened with delight; and from that moment Hector Servadac
and Montmartre held equal places in his affection.

CHAPTER III

INTERRUPTED EFFUSIONS

Composed of mud and loose stones, and covered with a thatch of turf
and straw, known to the natives by the name of "driss," the gourbi,
though a grade better than the tents of the nomad Arabs, was yet far
inferior to any habitation built of brick or stone. It adjoined an old
stone hostelry, previously occupied by a detachment of engineers,
and which now afforded shelter for Ben Zoof and the two horses.
It still contained a considerable number of tools, such as mattocks,
shovels, and pick-axes.

Uncomfortable as was their temporary abode, Servadac and his
attendant made no complaints; neither of them was dainty
in the matter either of board or lodging. After dinner,
leaving his orderly to stow away the remains of the repast
in what he was pleased to term the "cupboard of his stomach."
Captain Servadac turned out into the open air to smoke his pipe
upon the edge of the cliff. The shades of night were drawing on.
An hour previously, veiled in heavy clouds, the sun had sunk
below the horizon that bounded the plain beyond the Shelif.

The sky presented a most singular appearance. Towards the north,
although the darkness rendered it impossible to see beyond
a quarter of a mile, the upper strata of the atmosphere were
suffused with a rosy glare. No well-defined fringe of light,
nor arch of luminous rays, betokened a display of aurora borealis,
even had such a phenomenon been possible in these latitudes;
and the most experienced meteorologist would have been puzzled
to explain the cause of this striking illumination on this 31st
of December, the last evening of the passing year.

But Captain Servadac was no meteorologist, and it is to be
doubted whether, since leaving school, he had ever opened his "Course
of Cosmography." Besides, he had other thoughts to occupy his mind.
The prospects of the morrow offered serious matter for consideration.
The captain was actuated by no personal animosity against the count;
though rivals, the two men regarded each other with sincere respect;
they had simply reached a crisis in which one of them was _de trop;_
which of them, fate must decide.

At eight o'clock, Captain Servadac re-entered the gourbi, the single
apartment of which contained his bed, a small writing-table, and some
trunks that served instead of cupboards. The orderly performed his
culinary operations in the adjoining building, which he also used as a
bed-room, and where, extended on what he called his "good oak mattress,"
he would sleep soundly as a dormouse for twelve hours at a stretch.
Ben Zoof had not yet received his orders to retire, and ensconcing
himself in a corner of the gourbi, he endeavored to doze--a task
which the unusual agitation of his master rendered somewhat difficult.
Captain Servadac was evidently in no hurry to betake himself to rest,
but seating himself at his table, with a pair of compasses and a sheet
of tracing-paper, he began to draw, with red and blue crayons,
a variety of colored lines, which could hardly be supposed to have
much connection with a topographical survey. In truth, his character
of staff-officer was now entirely absorbed in that of Gascon poet.
Whether he imagined that the compasses would bestow upon his verses
the measure of a mathematical accuracy, or whether he fancied
that the parti-colored lines would lend variety to his rhythm,
it is impossible to determine; be that as it may, he was devoting
all his energies to the compilation of his rondo, and supremely
difficult he found the task.